


My turn

by h0tbl00ded



Category: Hannibal (TV), Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:41:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0tbl00ded/pseuds/h0tbl00ded
Summary: Will Graham is accused of being the Chesapeake Ripper. Jack Crawford calls down an ex FBI profiler from New York, Malcolm Bright.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	My turn

**Author's Note:**

> I know the first chapter is short, but I just wanted to do a little test run before diving head into it

WILL

Will Graham’s mind was clear. Clearer than it’s ever been, but he was stuck in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, and no one on the outside believed him. Staying here would be tolerable, only if Abel Gideon would shut the hell up. He was thinking about Hannibal. Well, that’s mostly all he ever did these days, was think about Hannibal. Think about the lengths his former friend had to go to, to frame him so well. Think about how many times he’d accidentally eaten one of Hannibal’s victims. He couldn’t help it, his mind had no walls. His mind was deep, and dark, but it worked. A throne made of antler, gruesome, but necessary. So deep he was in his thoughts, he didn’t hear Dr. Frederick Chilton approach. 

“Someone’s trying to get you out. Don’t ask me how it happened, but there’s an ex - FBI profiler coming down from New York, he’s going to investigate your case.” He paused, as if waiting for a thank you, some notion of gratitude, but Will continued to stare straight at the wall. 

“Name?

“Excuse me?”

“What’s his name?”

“Oh, Malcolm something. Light, maybe? Apparently he’s got experience with serial killers. So, you’re in luck.” Dr. Chilton, seeing that he was going to get nothing more from Will, sighed in the way that disappointed fathers do, and left, his three pointed gait echoing down the hallway. 

Experience with serial killers could mean a number of things. In his mind, Will was already drawing up a mental image of what he might look like, be like, smell like. Probably some asshole who won’t listen to him.

MALCOLM

“You’re in luck kid, the FBI wants you, but don’t worry, it’s some guy named Jack Crawford.”

“The FBI?” Malcolm raised an eyebrow, his expression reminiscent of a confused puppy dog. “What do they want with me?”

Gil shrugged, one of his world - weary, i - could - really - give - two - fucks shrug. “Not for me to know. There’s files, and you’ve got a plane leaving in two hours. Need a ride?”

“Um. Yeah, I guess I do.” The car ride was a little tense, though it was understandable. Gil was probably worried about Malcolm, for his well being, and even his working for the NYPD. All that Malcolm took with his was his phone and his files, and he’d decided to tell his mother that he’d left when he landed. It was for the best, really. 

When Malcolm got out of the car, he gave Gil a big smile, hoping to reassure him. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll be okay.” 

“I know, kid. Just … be careful in DC.”

And finally, he got to go through the files that the FBI had sent. And wow, did he enjoy them. The meticulous creativity of the murders, the implication of cannibalism, the use of antlers, possibly a symbol for nature taking back what’s rightfully hers. Then, he got to the killer’s file. Will Graham. Immediately, he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. Yes, Will Graham had killed to save the life of a girl. But… something was off. All of the serial killers that Malcolm has met, they all have a certain look in their eyes. A knowledge of the deep dark terrible side of the world, and the thrill of being a part of it. Will’s eyes only conveyed resignation, and a loss of hope. 

Reading more about Will, what he did for a living, his friendships, out of all of that, the one thing that made Malcolm certain that Will wasn’t the Chesapeake Ripper, was his kindness to animals, especially dogs. Most serial killers start out hurting animals, but Will goes out of his way to be kind to them. And that, is quite the anomaly. 

A faint twitch in his mind wondered if he should call his father, ask his opinion. No, he would interview Will Graham on his own first, and use his father as a very last resort.

WILL

The day was soon approaching. The day that Will would finally say ‘fuck it’, and piss on Dr. Chilton, because Dr. chilton is an annoying inconvenience, and being pissed on would be a fair counterweight to that. He was most unhelpful with information regarding his profiler, and in fact, had become more closed off every time Will tried to bring it up. Gee, it’s only his entire life that he’s concerned about.

At least he was out of his cell, and in a room with a window. Granted, he was chained to the table, and there was a burly guard staring him down, but at least the sunshine felt nice. His profiler was here, he could hear a slight commotion outside of the door, guards probably giving him a once - over, patting him down, giving him the usual warnings. Will wasn’t nervous, exactly. No, he’d faced down monsters. But he was slightly… apprehensive. Worried, perhaps. 

Finally, his profiler came in, looking irritated. “I asked if Dr. Chilton could refrain from recording us, but he’s rather stubborn.” He took a breath, and laid his files down, calming himself. “Hi. I’m Malcom Bright, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Graham.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Bright, please, call me Will.”

“And you should do the same. But, Malcolm. Obviously.” He smiled, and his eyes seemed to soak up the light. “First things first, I know you’re innocent.”

A lot to take in. First, Malcolm believed him. But, it went more than simple belief. He said that he ‘knew’ Will was innocent. Usually, profilers don’t use that term until they’ve completed their profile, and files can only do so much in the way of getting to know someone. 

"Yeah, how's that?" 

"I'm so glad you asked. You see, the FBI already has a profile on you. They claim that you're a run of the mill, ordinary psychopath. Which, is thankfully easy to work with, because you don't display many of the traits that make copy and paste psychopaths, psychopaths. For instance, you feel great remorse. You're very kind to animals, and if you do hurt someone, it's out of necessity, not a lust for pain. Now, I'm not denying that you need therapy, because if what you say is true, those things that Dr. Lecter did to you, anyone would be a little unhinged. I would know, actually." 

"Did you have a similar experience?" Will asked. 

"Sort of. My father, he's a serial killer. The Surgeon, actually. He's attempted to manipulate me my whole life, and he tried to kill me when I was a kid. So I got that going for me." 

“So how are you in any way qualified to be a profiler?”

“I could ask you the same. You yourself said that you verged on the asperger's slash autism spectrum. I, well. I don’t verge on anything. I’m highly medicated at all times, i don’t have any concern for my well being when it comes to a case, and I recently broke my own thumb to get out of chains, and then proceeded to put the man who captured me into a box.”

“Why didn’t you just dislocate your thumb?”

“I wasn’t completely sure if even that would make my hand small enough to escape, Will.”

“So. It seems like we might understand each other better than I thought we would.” Graham nodded to himself, and when he looked up at Malcolm again, he made sure his expression was full of gratitude, because that was better than vocalizing it, on the off chance Chilton was ignoring legality, and recording this session anyways. 

Malcolm seemed to understand, because he returned the look with a knowing smile.


End file.
